1/2/11

Catania, Sicilia, Italia


Sicilian coastline; you must imagine the endless groves of orange and lemon trees, cacti lining the roads, and Greek ruins dotting the surrounding hills



My God, I've not posted in a week and a half! This just goes to show two things:
1) Internet is very hard to come by without seeking expensive internet points, where you can't use your own computer anyway (so no picture uploading ability)
2) Time is absolutely flying out here
The second point is especially interesting, as I am really taking my time getting from eh to bee, especially when compared to how Sean and I were riding together. Back then, waaay back when I was but a wee lad, we would average 90 km a day; nowadays, on mah lonesome, I'm getting 40-5o km in and I'm ready to call it a day. Why the sudden change? For one, I don't have the same drive to get after it every day, as I don't really have anywhere to get to, nor am I on a strict schedule with tight time constraints. I'd say that was one of our biggest troubles together, for it forced us to spend most of our time riding and living a very ascetic and Spartan existence. Now, this isn't bad at all, and I really enjoyed the simplicity and guts that it took (plus, we saw a hell of a lot and still were able to see a hell of a lot). However, there's something very nice about getting to a city and actually spending a day seeing the sights as opposed to an hour at night and two hours on the bike before leaving. This new approach I am taking today and tomorrow with Catania, which houses the #3 biggest Catholic ceremony in the world, following Peru and Valencia.
But the other reason that I am slowing down the pace, aside from the lack of a ticking timer, would be the challenging landscape and the joy of stopping and breathing in warm, fragrant air and basking in the sun in the winter! How wonderfully challenging this landscape is, though I have become used to it to the point that I am not ever bothered by even the longest and steepest of climbs: I just downshift as far as I can, put my eyes up (thanks, Ebert), and pedal pedal pedal to freedom. And a climb is much better when you can stop at any point as you come along a beautiful view, which seems to happen ever kilometer on the sunny days out here.
Ah, but not all climbs have been fragrant floral scented holiday soaps; indeed, my left knee began aching a great deal at the end of my longest ride on my own (100 km), where I stopped at a wonderful family-run B&B in Praia a Mare (look it up), owned by an Italian man and his Russian wife. I took a rest day there while it poured a crazy amount outside, brushing up on my Italian in the process. The next day I left and covered 190 km in the next 2 days to reach a warmshowers safe haven, with hilly/mountainous terrain in between. My knee again acted up in the final 3 kilometers of my first day and nearly kept me off my bike (or at least off the left pedal) for the last 20 km of the second day. This was particularly challenging, for the last 7 km probably averaged a 7% grade, which is tough enough on a fully loaded bike but was exceptionally difficult with a bum knee (and the left one, my preferred leading knee!). Though I rested there three full days, the pain was still there when I left. Want to know how I fixed the problem (and can you guess what the problem was?)
Mr. Ward will truly appreciate this. In my investigation of the problem to try to discover a solution that would enable me to continue riding, I came across a wickedly knotted left vastus lateralis muscle.


Oh Stromboli, always erupting and constantly causing scientists to refer to such ongoing volcanic activity as "Strombolian."




After pausing a bit to massage the area with my thumb, I continued with pain until I finished for the day, where I spent 15 minutes using my thumbs and foam roller (Nalgene water bottle) treating the trouble spot until it was clearly bruised. I was only 90% convinced that this was the problem and the solution, but the next day when I lasted a full 40 km until the pain started, I became fully convinced. Since then, I have treated the area before and after every ride, also making up for my lax habits and rolling out every major muscle group of the lower body at least once every two or three days. Guess what? No more knee pain. Amazing how muscles work/fail and how easy it is to get them back in line.
Alright, enough of the boring stuff about my body (good thing we are stopping here - some funky stuff has been going on). Let's recap where I have been. After I left Praia a Mare, I headed through Calabria, one of the most culturally proud areas of Italy (and with perhaps the most delicious food), to Tropea and the warmshowers place in Caria (7 km straight uphill). I remained there for a number of days: resting, enjoying my own cabin, sharing some time with the Italian family, and catching up on my BBC time (I guess Egypt has been a riot recently).
When I left, I saw some of the most photographed cliffs and scenery of all of Italy, and it wasn't the least bit disappointing.


Capo Vaticano: a beautiful area on a beautiful day.



In fact, it was the perfect setting, for the sun was shining, the air was warm, and I was completely alone, which seemed a sacrilege for just one man to be enjoying Paradise.
Eventually, I meandered my way through Calabria and took a ferry to Messina, Sicilia, where I spent a night and began my Sicilian quest south the following day. I've since made it past Mt. Etna, visited some amazing Greek ruins at Taormina, and tasted the most delicious oranges in my entire life. This morning, I had 10 of these deep red and orange fruits, which tasted as though they had been injected with sugar while still maintaining their oranginess. My God, I wonder why these fruits are not imported to America, and, if they are, why they are being withheld from the commoners.
In short, the past 11 days have been full of many a small story that I wish I could share here. Well, a few of them are just not appropriate for the upstanding nature of this web blog, but 95%... alright, 90% would be perfect for the likes of CycloQuest. Expect another update tomorrow with some prime pictures of Mt. Etna. Until then, I am off to catch some zzz's before checking out the beginnings of the Saint Agatha fair that will be transforming this city into a madhouse.

Calabria: "Multa bella"

22/1/11

Praia al Mare, Calabria, Italia



God really spent a lot of time on Italy



Here's a funny story for what happened two nights ago: There I was, in the bed of a 20 Euro a night apartment, minding my own z's and resting quite peacefully, when all of a sudden I was aroused by a loud banging noise very close by. I soon became cognizant that the thunderous pounding was coming from my window, and that it was deliberately done, in an endless repetition of 7 or 8 hits at a time, with 20 seconds between. I realized it was someone outside my window, at 01:00 in the morning, a full three hours after I had fallen asleep. What was going on? Why was someone out there?

The man outside kept repeating something along the lines of "abre la porta": open the door. I should say that my apartment was on the ground floor and had a door of its own inside a foyer of sorts of the entire building. This guy was probably referring to the outside door, not my own, but in the confusion of the sudden ruckus, I could not be sure.

Storm's a brewin'. Clouds are rolling in from the sea. Rumblings a-plenty.


My heart began racing once I realized that this situation was not going away by itself and that I potentially had a real problem on my hands. Finally, I turned on the light and started talking to the man outside, who had by this point begun opening the steel shutters over the window and was striking the glass itself, which is a much louder and more frightening of a sound. I told the man "No, no, no. No abre," in a somewhat shaky voice, but I tried to find out perche he wanted me to do that. He said he had an apartment inside but could not get in. I wasn't sure whether to believe him and was debating it, when all of a sudden I heard another banging from the opposite direction, at the door to the foyer outside my room.

This really put me off, and I asked cuantas personas, to which he responded due (two). Due? That couldn't be good. Why didn't he tell me he wasn't alone to begin with? Was his partner there the whole time waiting for me to open the door so he could immediately set upon me and my meager belongings? Damn, I was paranoid that morning, thinking the most irrational and outrageous thoughts, but then again, what would have been rational at that stage? Well, I quickly found out, and there is a happy ending, indeed.

The other person must have walked around the building, for I heard a second voice, and it belonged to either a woman or a man with issues (or a feminine parrot? a trained robot? my schizophrenia?). This put me a bit at ease (who wouldn't let unknown women of the night into the building?), and I agreed to open the door. There I was, in my boxers, staring intently at the door knob while the blackness of the night enveloped me. I reached out and grabbed it, at last opening the door. My instinct was to run back to my room and quickly shut the door, but I stayed out to confront the mysterious visitors face to face. A few seconds of waiting, and two shadowy figures emerged from the night.

It turns out that the man I had met from the apartment upstairs, and the woman was the lady who rented me the room. It also turns out that the foyer door locks if you close it, especially if the key is on the inside. I had seen the man try to close the door with the key on the outside and, failing, giving up. Naturally, having the nickname "Patch" given to me in 7th grade for my tendency to fix problems and having it stick in my mind, I wanted to close the door.


Don't worry: Be happy, for beauty like this exists.


So I took the key out of the outside, stuck it on the inside, and shut the door, wiping my hands off and thoroughly satisfied at a job well done. The problem had been that I had closed and locked the door before the man told me not to lock it, that that was "male," so this time I did not lock it but only closed it. Well, wouldn't you know, that still prevents anyone from entering, and there doesn't seem to be a second mode of entry or a second working key. Thus, all the banging was the result of my actions, though I didn't know it at the time. Also, I was in no danger whatsoever, though my thumping heart and slightly nauseous stomach would have told you otherwise! Furthermore, the man and lady were not mad, for I think they could tell how unsettled I was. And maybe they liked the boxer look. Probably not.

The following day, yesterday, could not hope to match that episode on a level of adventure or mayhem, but it certainly did provide me with scenic spots galore and a healthy respect for Italian cyclists, who traverse these mountains every day.


The setting sun frames a mountain landscape




Indeed, the coastal road, while perhaps less severe when compared to the inner roadways of the country and having lower passes, probably entails more net elevation gain, for the road is continually climbing and descending all along the cliffs of the coast. This makes for slow going, yes, but it also provides more beauty than I could have hoped for. Overall, I am very glad with the path and am happy to be taking my time.

When I felt about ready to call it a day, I no longer was searching desperately for a campsite, having accepted that, in January in Italia, 95% of the sites are chiuso (closed). Instead, I searched for a cheap albergo or B&B. I believe I hit jackpot this time around, for I located a family-run B&B that was only 25 Euro for the one night, which is fine to start with. The man is extremely friendly and willing to speak slowly with me and teach me a bit of Italian in the process. Furthermore, the wife/mother is originally from Russia and so is still learning Italian herself. But the two are among the most kind businesspeople I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. For instance, when I was in need of a bancomat, Fausto drove me across town to the bank, then on the way back took me to a museum showcasing some local art and finally stopped at the supermarket so that I could pick up some food for the next day's ride. When we got back to the house, Valentina had cooked some Russian food and they invited me to sit down for dinner. The whole night, I felt immensely relaxed and welcomed into a family. I was not merely a kid who is paying to steal a room, hot water, and electricity for the night. Experiences like this, when you receive an unexpected gift, are my favorite. Well, this and not being awoken in the middle of the night by banging on the window.

20/1/11

Ascea, Italia


Sunset behind Amalfi



Since I have last posted, I have visited one of the most beautiful places in the world: The Amalfi Coast. In truth, my capacity as a solo cycle tourist makes me downright ecstatic on the warm and sunny days and rather gloomy and distraught on the dark and rainy ones.



Paradise for the cyclist



Perhaps, then, there are more beautiful places out there that I've even come across in my travels (Colorado, Ireland, and the Mediterranean around Genova come to mind); on this day, however, I could not be disturbed by anything, such was my infinite happiness.



And when you smile for the camera...




The day before I beheld this magnificence, I visited Pompeii, which is an amazing place in its own right. These ancient structures are preserved quite well considering their age and what has happened to them (though the volcanic eruption is really what preserved the structures). The amphitheater and stadium were very cool, both larger than I had expected (they are huge) and, in the case of the amphitheater, still acoustically functional.


"Beware of dog"; some things are just universal


As I strolled the rough streets, I'd wander into a building that used to be a baker, or the home of a nobleman that is adorned with geometrical mosaic floors, or what used to be a brothel and is still decorated with images that were designed to, well, spark the patrons' imaginations, I guess. I was especially moved by the shadowy figures of men, women, and even children that were trapped forever in positions of agony beneath the volcanic ash.

I reckon this last stretch was quite eventful, providing views of Mediterranean cliffs, a preserved ancient town, and some beautiful coastal cities: after Naples was Sorrento, then Amalfi, Salerno, and Paestum, with these lovely Greek ruins (the Greeks just loved leaving ancient temples all over the damn place).

Clean up after yourselves before you leave, Greeks! No but seriously this is beautiful.


Finally, all day yesterday I was riding through lush green hills filled with olive groves that lead again to the coast, where I climbed and descended a host of mountain roads, all with a wall of rock to the left and a sheer drop to the right. If only it were sunny, I would have again been in paradise. Today, I can look forward to some rain while I inch ever closer to my next goal of Sicily.


The Amalfi Coast: Bringing cliffs and cities together for thousands of years


I expect to be experiencing again some new landscapes as I ride along the coast heading south. But what will never change is the sense of adventure that is renewed each time I mount the bike again. If anyone asks if this gets boring or tiresome, I'd say that it does, certainly, become difficult, for instance when I am searching for lodging or wandering around a town at night, alone and with no one to laugh with; but as soon as I begin the next day's ride, my spirits soar as I set out on a new adventure, erasing the hardships of the previous day and instilling in me an immense vigor and passion for life and what is to come!

Naples' papal stables don't staple the table, Mabel?

A Neapolitan sunset is unbridled beauty

15/1/11

Napoli, Italia

At least five separate people warned me to pay attention (attenzione) here in Napoli, but I have yet to experience anything foul. Instead, my time here has been nothing short of wonderful, giving me invaluable experiences galore. Indeed, I have sampled the food (pastries, pizza, special chickpeas, special broccoli, salami, and cheese), I have met many interesting and kind Neapolitans, and I've beheld many breathtaking views of one of the most beautiful cityscapes that exists.


Palm trees and lovely architecture. Note the abundance of winter coats: absurd for 16 C (60 F) weather.


To top it all off, I am staying with a lovely family that I met through Warmshowers who have singlehandedly improved my stay in the city tenfold. Francesco has taken me on a wonderful bike tour of the city, which attained some magnificent views of the setting sun and Napoli Bay.
I now prepare myself to set out in a few hours for Sorrento, where I plan to camp for the night and take a daytrip to Pompeii the following day. Monday, then, will see me avoiding the sheer drops of the Amalfi Coast as best as I can, and I'll be on my way to Salerno.


Again, Italy's got some serious churches going on; gold and marble everywhere, and not a drop to drink, unless you're above 1064 C.


Following my time on this wonderful peninsula, I will begin my trek to Sicily, hugging the Mediterranean coast the whole time.

And after Sicily? Well, that depends on how much this turns into a Bob Vs. The Volcano type deal. I'm kind of excited to finally be facing my single biggest enemy in life: The Volcano. I can only hope that NBC, or better yet Fox, picks up my epic struggle to beat The Volcano this winter in a one-of-a-kind special. You'd better tune in while I tune out The Volcano. But seriously I hope I don't become lava bait!

My take on this city is that it is a wonderful place to spend some time in order to appreciate the merger of a traditional lifestyle in a modern city. Drivers have to cope with narrow, cobblestoned streets while business still shuts down for mezzogiorno (lunch "hour").


City at night


I have enjoyed my stay but would not be able to live here, for it is not an accommodating place for easy travel or movement and lacks, as my host's friend Antonio put it, a certain economic drive that you would find in an American city of this size.

Do the Bill Clinton! No, not having an affair with your secretary; no, not smoking pot at Oxford; no, not balancing the US budget; well, maybe balance the budget, but then enjoy some folded Neapolitan Pizza Margherita !

Medierranean Joys

12/1/11

Location: 2 km West of Castel Volturno (50 km West of Napoli)

Ah, nothing like summer coming 5 months early, as I always say, occasionally scream, and seldom mutter while holding my head in my hands. Will the temperatures ever drop to single digits again, or am I to bask forever in the sun's sweet rays, which are becoming more abundant, more radiant, daily? You know, questions like this are irrelevant as long as I continue to smile uncontrollably each time I mount my bike and begin the day's ride. But I must say, this is the first winter I have ever spent away from a harsh and frigid environment, and I can completely understand now why people (and birds, STDs, etc.) head south for the season.

Though I was originally quite wary about spending time alone in a place where I do not speak the language, I am overjoyed by how quickly I can pick up enough to get by. Words like “Si” and “Gratzie” are always on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out in whatever combination suits the situation. I love throwing in a “perfecto” and watch the eyes widen in wonder (disgust?). During my ride today, I overtook an older cyclist who seemed to be checking something on his bike. Though he was clearly capable of going faster than me for his training ride, he elected to hang out with me for a bit and chat it up. Needless to say, he spoke 0 (zero) English but was glad to ask questions slowly or repeatedly if I didn't understand what he was saying. Following a full 30 minutes together, I was able to get across where I am from, how old I am, where I came from today (oggi), where I am going (and then, and then, and then...), what I like the most about Italian culture (here I just named all the foods I love, throwing in a “bene” and rubbing my stomach now and then), and how much I ride per day. I then somehow asked him if the weather was typically this wonderful, which he said yes. OK, he added a few more things that sounded like, “Mario, Luigi, spicy meataballa,” which wouldn't be an appropriate answer. But then he broke off to go home or something silly like that (who has a home these days?), leaving me on my lonesome. If only Dr. Steve Brule were around to help me get through living alone.

Great, now that you all know that the Mediterranean coast of Italy is sexcellent, I can move on to more important things, like shout outs. First, a very special shout out to my very special friend Tim Ward, who has recently completed a fitness book entitled The Theory of Fat Loss. As he's kept me posted on the goings on of his life, I know that he is a prime example of untiring persistence (needlessly redundant?) and dedication pay off. He has given me great ideas as it is with how to shape this trip and the importance of having far off goals, which is certainly something we can all benefit from (except you, reader Bill Gates). Secondly, I would love to thank Poseidon for not killing me (yet) though I have now slept within 100m of your dear coast four times, three of which were in trees and bushes. And last but not lastly, I must extend a hand, the left one, to you, my dedicated and lawfully wedded readers (betcha didn't see the fine print in that one). It has been a bumpy last four months, with bumps galore, but you have helped make this web blog #55897333333333 on Time's list of greatest cycling adventure internet journals and/or web blogs of the 21^st century. No, but you are the best, really. And thanks for sticking with it in spite of all the confusion and mayhem that may have arisen that one night out of the Black Lagoon. Aunt Dee, keep the comments coming: You're like Old Faithful, but with less gas? That is not appropriate, but I'm keeping it because the backspace key has gone on strike (I'm in Europe now), leaving the delete key with twice the work and you and I both know it's the smaller, more fragile of the two (anyone get that???). And highlighting's for bitches (Liz? Christine? That's your cue to smile).

OK, I've offended enough people and singled out a few more than I had to. Keep up the smiles and the good work ethic! (I have some spectacular pictures that will have to wait, por desgracia. Till next time...)

Italy, land of beauty

11/1/11

Sabaudia, Italia (on the Med)

I'm alive, I'm well, and I've been missing the company of my main man, Sir Gosewisch. It is very difficult being alone in a foreign place, if just because you are alone and in a foreign place. But there's more to it in this particular situation: Sean and I had traveled together for almost four months, and I basically went cold turkey off the Traveling Together Train. I'm not sure if that analogy is appropriate or makes sense, but just go with it.

I told you that an upcoming post will detail our initial exploits in Ireland, as well as include a list of some of the coolest and strangest encounters we have had. That has been put on hold for the time being until I can catch up with my own writing and riding and, oh yeah, sleeping (there's a dog out there who just couldn't bear to see me sleep). But the weather here is great: 16 and sunny. And I have smile on face, song in heart. And I am about to eat some prosciutto and cheese. Can't waaaait!

2011: A Space Odyssey Fun World

5/1/11

Navan, Co. Meath, Ireland

Irish newlyweds need a few pointers from the 1800s, I guess.

Hapsome Neurs! I believe I speak for everyone when I say that this year feels much, much less catlike than 2010. Indeed, soon we will switch from Tiger to Rabbit on the Chinese calendar. We must all pace ourselves, especially when in competition with slow-moving people or shelled land mammals. And avoid haircuts this year (think about it...).

In honor of the approaching second week of January, I have decided to post a Very Special Weblogpost recapping some of the highlights of the first part of this particular trip.


I've got Chubbs for you. Itty bitty chubbs for you.



It's gonna cover Ireland pt. 1, the best and most interesting characters, and an unforgettable gag reel. You won't want to miss it, unless you've got a full frontal lobotomy to get. Those are the best evaa.

Ah, as you can tell, cabin fever has set in and is ravaging my sanity. (At least we'll always have Paris, eh sanity? Sanity? Saaanity? Oh saaaaanity? Here sanity. Here, here, here sanity. Here. Here. Sanity. Here. Here here here herehereherehereherehereheeerrrrity. San, san, everywhere a san. Sanity, silver and gold. Sanman, bring me a dream. Here comes the san (do da do do). Saaaanta Claus is coming to town. Actually, he's just left the building! And so have I.)

Ripley's, I've been around a bit recently. Most notably, I visited Galway City for an Irish weddin'. Boy, was that fun! And boy, do the Irish stay up late! And boy, were the pints a-flowin'!

The real Galway Girl: The Cathedral

It began auspiciously enough: my cousin's boyfriend and I were caught on the stairs behind the bride and groom as they made their much-photographed entrance. We were pinned there for a few minutes, our faces two half-Irish tomatoes, until the bride's father called us out (cue the laughter!). But everything picked up, and, following a glass of champagne and some mulled wine, soon dinner was served. I met a genuine Irish footballer who plays for County Clare whose father holds the Irish record for most national cross country titles. The band played a mix of Irish songs and revamped 90s hits in a most rocktageous way that got everybody on the dance floor until 2 in the morning, when Captain Buzzkill came by and brought the orders from the Man into action, shutting down the show. But that did not stop the party, which continued in every nook and cranny of the reception room until at least 6:30, which is when my roommate came back.

What's the craic, Ledgebomb?

You see, I had retired a mere 3.5 hours after midnight, feeling both too old and too young to continue the night. Certainly, the night was chalked up as a rip-roaring success.

There have been a few more excursions to report, such as hill climbing; New Year's feasting; about five different experiences with Galway Girl, the song; a stay with my cousin Aishling and her husband Niall in Dundalk; and the trip to Sola', the nightclub for all the youngins of Navan, which left me ears ringing for days. In fact, my left ear still has not recovered completely. I have never felt so deaf in my life as I have on this trip. But that's neither here nor there. Well, alright it is very much here. And it will soon be there. So, so soon.